Tweetie Rainbeaux

Cheep! Cheep!

Excuse me, I said, "Cheep! Cheep!"

I know it takes you humanbrains a while to notice what's right under your beaks, even on the Internet. Not like us birdbrains, who are always aware of everything in our environment. But now that I've got your attention, let me relate an incident which proves that avian intelligence is vastly superior to the human variety. Yes, I know you think that we're the dimwits, but read on and you'll see otherwise.

Several months ago, my humanbrain, who shall remain nameless, did something so stupid, so downright dumb, that I almost died. And not from laughter. You know how humanbrains are–always preoccupied with silly little details so that they can't see the forest for the trees. Well, one morning before my humanbrain left for work, he was rushing around the nest tidying this and cleaning that, while trying to listen to the news and shower and shave–all at the same time! I, of course, had been liberated from my cage to perform the traditional lovebird morning ritual: flying to my favorite perches to survey the lay of the land.

In the midst of his ablutions, my humanbrain decided it was the perfect moment to pour Drano down the bathtub drain. I've never presumed to understand the vagaries of human thought, so I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and concede that perhaps it was a good time to pour Drano down the bathtub drain. But here comes the stupid part. He left the bathroom door open, and I flew in to throw the soap dish onto the floor. Unaware of any danger, I landed right on the tub.

I was in the bathroom for nearly a minute before my humanbrain figured out that Drano and birds don't mix. The fumes from many cleaning products can irritate our sensitive respiratory tracts, leading to secondary infections and–shudder–death. He shooed me away, and I flew back to my cage having inhaled a cloud of toxic fumes.

At first I didn't feel any deleterious effects. But a little later, just as my humanbrain was leaving, I started to wheeze and gasp for air. My eyelids drooped, along with my exquisite rainbow plumage. My humanbrain noticed this and finally realized that something terrible had happened. He sat with me for an hour until I managed to eat from my seed cup, and then he went to work.

I couldn't believe his callousness–leaving me alone when I could hardly breathe! But after all, he's a typical humanbrain, so what could I expect? In his defense, he came home early because, as he told me, "I was so worried, I couldn't concentrate." And in retrospect, it was a blessing that he did go to work, because he got the name of St. Marks Veterinary Hospital from a colleague, who'd taken her cockatiel chick there and raved about the place.

The next day we had an appointment with Dr. Sally Haddock, who seemed like an unusually sensitive and intelligent humanbrain. That is, until she grabbed me, poked and prodded every part of my well-muscled body, put me in a metal basket to weigh me, and then–worst of all–stuck two needles into my chest. It was horrible, and confirmed the adage that the treatment is oftentimes worse than the illness.

Dr. Haddock sent me back to my nest with some foul-tasting medicine that my humanbrain had to force down my gullet twice a day, along with a ridiculous injunction against flying. Can you imagine, my nest had been designated a no-fly zone? It was unthinkable.

As I sat in my cage and brooded, I had plenty of time to revise my initial good impression of Dr. Haddock. But then, over the next two weeks, I gradually stopped gasping for air, my eyelids stayed up, and my exquisite plumage became exquisite once again. As much as I hate to admit it, Dr. Haddock's treatment saved my life. Who would have thought that a mere humanbrain could work such miracles?

Now that I'm happily flying around my nest again, I'd like to take a moment to thank Dr. Haddock and Lorelei, the bird technician, for their gentle (discounting the poking and prodding and sticking) care. During my visits to St. Marks Vets, I saw that everyone there really loves animals. (How could you not?) Although I hope I don't have to return anytime soon, I know that if I do, I will receive the best bird doctoring in New York.

And by the way, Dr. Haddock, you were right about something else. I am the most beautiful bird that you've ever seen.